


Sweat and Earth, Skin and Fire

by Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Chastity Device, F/F, Femslash, Lust, Older Woman/Younger Woman, POV Third Person, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/Miri%20Cleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furiosa aches with desire that is second nature, desire she has held inside herself, and her desire can save them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat and Earth, Skin and Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doctornerdington](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctornerdington/gifts).



> I fell in love with your prompt the second I read it, and I hope you like the result. I'll note that I haven't read the prequel comic, so that doesn't factor into this.
> 
> Many thanks to oparu for betaing this.

Prompt: What if Furiosa's empathy for the wives was driven by lust? What if lust and empathy were intertwined? What if that's how it always was, in the Green Place, where women's sexual impulses were taken to be normal, integrated into the business of everyday life?

In the Green Place, the first time she touched herself, they celebrated. They told her it was art. They told her it was beautiful. But beauty was the way the green touched sand on the horizon. It was the sun-worn wrinkles on the elders' faces and the gentle sag of their breasts. It was the ache in her shoulders after helping her mother haul water. It was the moans of two women she watched indulging in their lust for each other. 

She had asked them what it meant, how it felt. And they answered her gently but with the ease of explaining how they might skin a rabbit. It just was. She would see. It was like the first breath of sunshine in the morning before it burned away the dew. It was like the days the oldest of them whispered about—days when water flowed freely at a mere turn of the hand. 

Five women, who had been girls once, stared at her through sharp, suspicious eyes. Desperate eyes. Furiosa felt an ache unlocked in her chest where she'd captured it into a tight ball. It filled her with desire like her hot breath filled her lungs. She was a girl among twisting bodies tasting salt and sun and skin. There were five stars in the darkness, and she wanted to pluck each out of the sky for herself because they should know what she knew. 

"Let me show you what women do.” Her voice was soft but gruff, like the women she had watched ride to the edge of the Green Place and beyond. She remembered the way they smelled when they returned, the dust in her hair, the oil in their pores. Furiosa had tasted it as she had tasted them. 

Splendid was the first to step forward. She would have been one of the first to find herself, to thrust her chin out for a taste of another's mouth. And now, her belly showed the first curves of the child she carried. Her body would know desire. Furiosa had celebrated it before. She touched her cheek, ran her thumb over Splendid's bottom lip. she felt Splendid's palm crack across her face. 

Capable was quick to Splendid's side, taking her still raised hand as she said, "Wait" even as she moved half in front of her. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, wet and newly clean but still as bright as the flame in her eyes. 

There was sisterhood that made the ache in Furiosa's bones grow solid and heavy. "It won't hurt," she said. 'It _should not_ hurt' was not something she had ever needed to hear in the Green Place. 

Brave Capable stepped forward, her fingers entwined with Splendid's. "Show us together." Her jaw was set. 

Furiosa would show all of them. But first, she kissed Capable, and it was Capable who opened her lips willingly and explored Furiosa's mouth with her tongue. The grease smudged on her milky skin. It was Capable who drew Splendid to them and kissed her next. She was a soul who knew by instinct to embrace desire. She would be an attentive lover, the kind who would delight in delight. 

From behind them, Toast the Knowing watched, her eyes not only questioning but also assessing. Furiosa beckoned her forward with a tilt of her chin. Toast looked down, gaze skimming the silver belt encircling her hips before settling on Furiosa’s eyes. Those eyes had seen survival without pleasure. They searched Furiosa’s for the kinship of survival. Furiosa could give her that, but she could also give her more. 

She reached for Toast and touched the jagged metal teeth between her legs. They would shred skin to aching bone, but Furiosa would flay her own fingers for the feel of the woman. Furiosa pressed her hand to the flat of Toast’s belly, warm and damp in the heat, and slipped her fingertips underneath the belt. Metal and edge and made for men, but they were not property. 

A little gasp escaped Toast’s lips, and Furiosa could see that she understood. Toast turned to the others, The Dag and Fragile, and held out a hand. Come and see. Come and see because it’s safe. That was what her dark eyes, her outstretched fingers said to them. Come and have this because we belong to each other. 

Furiosa pushed her hand down, her skin against Toast’s skin, her skin against the warm leather. She could almost smell soil. She could almost taste grass. Toast was wet against her fingertips, and she could hear Splendid moan under Capable’s touch. 

The Dag held Fragile behind her, and her eyes were stone. Furiosa met that stare. There was a place where they were precious, where Cheedo the Fragile would know the simple joy of fingers combing through her hair, of a woman’s lips on her breasts. It was a place where fragile things could grow strong. 

She nodded as The Dag drew Fragile into her arms. They could belong to each other and to her and to the Green Place. Toast pressed into her palm as Furiosa pressed the backs of her fingers into her clit. She clenched her jaw in her frustration. There was waiting. The slow build of waiting and wanting, hands toiling in fertile soil still smelling of dirt when she could touch and taste and feel another body beside her own. 

There was no pleasure in this waiting. She smelled of oil now, oil and gunpowder. “I’ll take you.”

The Splendid Angharad stared into her eyes. “Where?”

“To the Green Place,” Furiosa said. She would have earth and seeds and flesh. She would see girls becoming women,w warrior and mothers and lovers again. She would have Splendid when she was heavy with child and Toast, her mind full of new wonders. She would have Capable with her warning eyes and feel The Dag’s sun-bright hair against her breasts. Once Cheedo the Fragile had found herself, Furiosa would have her too.


End file.
